My idea of camping at this point in my life is an all-inclusive resort complete with tall drinks with little umbrellas.
That wasn’t always the case.
For 6 years of my teenage life I spent the summer at a camp in rural New Hampshire. Those summers were some of the happiest in my life, even to this day. The smell of pine trees, the feel of traveling on a bumpy dirt road, and rustic cabins with bunk beds and scratchy woolen army blankets on the beds still make me smile. My trunk filled with shorts, bathing suits, and new underwear all labeled with iron on strips with my name written with laundry marker, cans of potato sticks, bags of sour balls, and of course a little transistor radio were packed and hauled into the car for that long trip north.
Every year clothing was either lost or discolored from being washed in the same load as the bright green camp sweatshirt. But so much more was gained.
I gained the knowledge that there were others like me, either seeing very little or not at all. I learned that I could jump off of the diving board and swim, passing the Red Cross beginners swimming test. I learned silly songs, played games where I wasn’t always the last one picked on a team. I rode a horse, won the award for being the seat drop champion on the trampoline, and saw the ocean for the first
Time.
I learned to sign the manual alphabet (part of the language used by people who are deaf), so that my best friend, Tina, and I could share secrets in the middle of the night without the counselors knowing. My hand would hang down off the top bunk, reaching for hers and we would spell out our hopes and dreams.
I had my first teenage crush, a boy 3 years older than me with long blond hair. He didn’t know I existed but it didn’t matter. I knew in my 13 year old heart that he was the one!
During those summers I wasn’t different. I was even somewhat popular, being part of the “Hollow Girls,” the bunch of us who would stay in the same cabin every year. I knew the path to that cabin by heart, stepping over every tree root, even in the middle of the night to go to the shower house to go to the bathroom.
Those six summers gave me the confidence I needed to get through the difficult times during the rest of the year. Feeling isolated at school, struggling to find a place where I fit in. I could come home to piles of letters, in Braille, typewritten or on cassette tape. I knew, even though separated by miles, I was part of something special. And I counted the months until I could travel that bumpy road again, haul my trunk into The Hollow, climb up on the top bunk and know I would be happy for another summer.
I am now a mentor for a group of blind and visually impaired teens. Although the world is different for them in many ways, I, along with their vision teacher, try to bring some of that magic to them. We’ve gone camping, not for a month, but for a few days. We watch these kids relax and sit around the campfire and hope they can find a friend, a crush, and experience a sense of safety and joy.
This is my entry for week 14 of
therealljidol. I hope you enjoy reading it as well as other entries from fellow Idolers!